Time For Some Changes

I'm finding myself slowly lifting out of this depression fog, slowly. I've had a few days of reflection, cried many tears and have made some difficult decisions. I already had plans on taking the next cycle off of Clomid, but after this funk, I have also decided to take a break, from everything. Temping, charting, anything revolving around trying to conceive, I am DONE! Not done completely, like I'm giving up my quest, because that desire to have another will never go away for me. I just need a break for my mental, emotional and physical stability. I have been at this now for almost 3 years and I NEED a break. I NEED to find ME again. I have restricted and limited myself for so long now and I need to change this. So, I started last night by having my first beer in almost a year! It tasted great too. I refuse to restrict myself from anything anymore, because it seems that in doing this I am also restricting and limiting my happiness. Yes, having a beer every once in a while feels liberating for me. I'm done limiting my foods, it's not like it made a difference on my cycles anyways. Pastas, rices, breads, milk, sugars, etc here I come! Although restricting these foods has actually made it to where I don't enjoy them anymore. I can taste the starches in pasta now and it tastes revolting to me. Sugars jack with my blood sugar levels and I get those lovely sugar crashes. Milk tastes awful to me now and I have never really been a fan of bread. I guess my diet won't be changing much. I plan on putting away my thermometer and not charting anything, only for one cycle. This will be my first cycle in about 3 years that I will be doing nothing. It's unsettling to me, but I feel for my well-being it needs to be done. My husband and I are planning a getaway, just the two of us. I won a romantic getaway off of our local radio station and it is beyond time for US to spend some quality time together. We're looking to do this in the next week or so as soon as our schedules can accommodate it. I plan on getting back into working out at least every other day. I have so much tension built up inside of me that I have knots in my shoulder muscles and I am getting daily tension headaches again. It is past time for some changes.

I'm Not Sure I Can Deal Anymore

My busted Clomid cycle has sent me spiraling down into a deep, dark depression. I am now stuck (and have been for a while) in that Depression/Anger stage of grieving. (see Stages of Grief post) I hate what I am becoming but I don't know how to change or fix it. I find myself literally hating every pregnant woman I see, hear about or encounter. 

I think my ultimate low is after one of my previous failed cycles, (last year) I had to go grocery shopping. I was in the same emotional hatred funk I am in now. I swear it was like every pregnant woman in our town decided to go shopping all at once that day. Minding my own business while grocery shopping, I looked up to see a hugely pregnant woman standing in front of me. Without even batting an eyelash I glared at her the most evil, hatred filled glare I have ever given anybody in my life. Seconds later, I moved onto the next aisle and bawled my eyes out. Who am I to judge or feel hatred towards another human being, especially one who has done nothing to me? What's to say she didn't endure her own infertility or struggle to get pregnant? Or, what if this pregnancy was a product of a sexual attack? Who am I to pass judgment just because I am hurting inside? 

I don't like what this journey has made me become. 

Don't get me wrong, I am not a hateful bitch, but instead a woman who is hurting inside. It seems as though everyone around me is getting what I want. It seems so out of my reach and it hurts me to know how others can get pregnant so easily, when I can't even ovulate regularly. It just hurts and it's not fair. Many will not understand these feelings and that is ok. You won't unless you have been here. 

I think all of these feelings have been festering inside of me and it only took several pregnancy announcements in one day (yes, 3 in one day!!) to sink me down even further. I also think these feelings have a lot to do with the fact that I am quickly approaching my 3rd year of trying for our 3rd child. That anniversary is always one that throws me into a funk. So, now that I know what caused the funk, how do I get myself out of it?

Blog Make Over

Since I am in an emotional funk right now and am trying very hard to get out of it, I thought what a better way to do that then to start with my blog. The template colors were not helping my depression one bit, so I needed something more uplifting. I think I have found something more colorful and vibrant. One step down, who knows how many more to go before I start feeling like my happy self again.

Clomid Cycle #3=Bust

*Sigh. I'm not feeling this today and don't even want to update my blog but I'm hoping it will help to get these feelings out. Remember my post of the stages of grief and how one thing can send one back into the depressive state? Well, guess where I'm back at. If you said depressed and angry, with a lot of bitterness and resentment then you have hit the nail on the head. At this point it doesn't feel like anybody can say anything right to me, because it all hurts.

Why am I feeling this way? Well because I am 98.999999% sure Clomid cycle #3 is a bust. Everything seemed to be going really well, just as it should. I got a little worried when 10 days past my last dose of Clomid I still had not ovulated. Then 11 days passed, and 12 and finally on 13 days passed my last dose, I got my temp rise that would indicate ovulation has taken place. I then got worried because we had not got enough action in to cover our bases. Once that was taken care of I felt more confident and comfortable with ovulation taking place because we had done all we could do. The rest was out of our hands. The next day another rise, and the same after that. I finally got my egg on my chart and got all excited and relieved that Clomid had worked again for me. The next day my hopes would be crushed. My temp went down a bit instead of going up. That is when I started doubting that I had ovulated at all. I gave my body the benefit of the doubt and started Natural Progesterone Cream to help boost my progesterone levels. The following days instead of my temps going up, they slowly took the downward plunge. 

I am supposedly 6 days past ovulation today even though my temps are back down to my typical pre-ovulation range. I woke up at 2:30am today so my temp doesn't count. Of course that always happens on days that I need the most accurate temp to help to decide what to do next. In my head I have not doubt that I didn't ovulate. Instead I have had what I call a "Fake Out" ovulation. Let me tell you it was probably one of the most awful ones I have had so far. So now all I can do is wait a few more days to see what my temps do next, then decide what to do next. I refilled and picked up my Provera script yesterday so I have it ready to go. If temps do not show ovulation in the next few days I will start the Provera to induce a period. I have already decided to take next cycle off of Clomid to give my body a rest. Other then that I have no game plan. I already feel lost and hopeless knowing that.

I've already had a few good cries since my realization of my fake out ovulation. Yes, I cry....alone. Then I wipe my tears, put on my game face and face the rest of the world. 

What TO Say to Someone Who is Struggling with Secondary Infertility

This post is long overdue to be posted. Since I already have the "What NOT to Say" post I think it is only fitting to post What TO Say. I have been struggling with this post for the longest time but I am not completely sure why. Just to prove my point, I have started on this post 4 different times and they have been all sitting as drafts. You would think this one would just come pouring out of my head, nope, I'm just not feeling it and that bothers me. I honestly believe that this apprehension stems from fear of offending any of those who are trying very hard to provide support. It is a tough situation for everybody involved, this Secondary Infertility business, not just for the person who is struggling with it, but also for the people trying to be supportive through it all.

The simple "I'm sorry" or "I'm sorry you are having to go through this" means a bunch to me. ((Hugs)) are helpful as well. Unless the supporter has been through Secondary Infertility themselves, any of the "I understand what you are going through" mean nothing to me and I actually find them a bit condescending. They don't know a thing about what I'm going through, so just be honest about it!! So instead, I would find "I don't know what you are going through, but am here if you need to vent or whatever." to be way more supportive. To me, that statement shows honesty and support. 

Also just being willing to talk about it, even if you have not been through Secondary Infertility before. It hurts me to know that there are people who will avoid conversations simply because they're not sure what to say for fear of becoming another What NOT to Say. :) Even though I completely understand WHY the avoidance is there, it creates feelings of isolation, even more then what Secondary Infertility already brings. 

Just as with the What NOT To Say post, I asked others who have also been suffering with Secondary Infertility what helped them or what they found supportive throughout their journey. This is their responses:

 

"I agree that when people were honest and said "I don't know what you are going through, but I am truly sorry" was the best bet. I too would get frustrated when people would say, "I understand" when they clearly didn't. I guess people really don't know what to say and I don't fault them for that, but at times it was hurtful. Just all the people reassuring us that we were in their prayers and asking me how it was going helped. I didn't like the fact that some people just never ask about it because they don't know what to say. I am the type who needs to talk. But, I didn't want to always be a Debbie Downer, but I appreciated people asking; it showed that they were thinking of us."

"I liked it when people asked how I was doing, b/c I also was a talker and liked to get my feelings out. People saying they were praying for me and asked what they could do to help was also nice."

"From someone who HAS been there, "Nothing anyone can say will make anything any better and that's okay."

From a friend who wasn't able to have children regarding seeing a bazillion other pregnant women: "Just remember, God didn't steal your blessing and give it to that other person. He just blessed them." That's helped me tremendously with the jealousy of hearing about someone being pregnant.

The best thing most people can say, "I don't understand... but I'm here, and I'm praying for you."

One older lady from a Bible study I go to (after a m/c) didn't say anything... she just gave me this little tiny hand crochet baby blanket swaddled around a prayer called "A Prayer for A Baby and Its Family." She's part of a ministry at our church called Threads of Love. I knew they made baby blankets and such, but I had no clue they did things for miscarriages. When this lady gave it to me she told me "Don't open this until you get home." No words of condolence. No I'm praying for you... just this tiny little gift. I actually had no idea what was in the bag until I got home. It was a blessing to me to know how thoughtful she was, yet at the same time respected how raw I was in my grief."

So there it is. Just be there for the person with an open ear and a shoulder to cry on, don't try to pretend like you know what they're going through, and just be honest about it. That is the best support one can ask for.

Cheyenne's Birth Story-Long overdue

I should only keep it fair and post Cheyenne's birth story as well. I missed posting it on her birthday as times are just crazy hectic for us around that time of year. Not that it stops me from reminiscing.

I need to start this off by saying I was 15 when I got pregnant with Cheyenne, and 16 when I had her. I never planned to have a child at 16 and its definitely not something I would want for my daughter to have to endure at that age. That being said, I made the best of my support and resources and have raised a very beautiful, smart, well rounded young lady, learning as I go.

Week of Thanksgiving 1995-30 weeks pregnant-I went and had Thanksgiving with my Dad and had a great time. When I returned home to my Mom's I was having some horrible stomach pains that I chalked up to just overindulging. A few hours went by and the pains seemed to be only getting worse.  I went to the hospital, with my sister Nina, where I was monitored for a while and it was confirmed I was having contractions. During this time they tapered off and I was sent home.

About 2 weeks later, I had my first Lamaze class, where my Mom and I went together. Now picture a very uncomfortable mother taking her pregnant teenager daughter to a Lamaze class. Now that the years have passed I can understand how completely uncomfortable my mom must've been. Thus why she made jokes and we laughed at everything. There came a point where we were to lie down and RELAX. Of course that was the point where the whole class grew very quiet. That was also my Mom's cue to make a comment that made me burst out so hard laughing. By the end of the night I swear I thought we were going to be asked to never come back. Needless to say, not much was learned that night.

2:37 AM that night, 32 weeks pregnant. I was fast asleep, propped up on my mountain of pillows because sleeping flat was a prime recipe for acid reflux bad enough to make one feel as though they were a fire breathing dragon. I was woken up by a pop and sudden wetness. Oh crap, my water just broke! I had no doubt that is what happened. I got up and went pee, and everyone in the house was asleep still. 

Now let me back up and paint a little scenario of who 'everyone' is. 

I lived with my Mom (whom I had only met just 3 years earlier-very long back story on that one) my step-dad, my brother and my grandpa. The 2 weeks between Thanksgiving and Cheyenne's birth had brought more family members into the picture. My Dad and Mom, obviously estranged at this point, split when I was 2 years old. They moved on, married others and my Dad had 3 more children. Over the years my Dad got sucked into drugs pretty badly, hence why I went to live with my Mom. During this time all my siblings still lived with my Dad. He hit his "rock bottom" and realized his life needed a complete turn around. During this time my Dad asked if my Mom could take in my siblings temporarily while he did so. So, kudos to my Mom for even contemplating that, as I again can only imagine the emotions that stirred up.

Back to the night of Cheyenne's birth. My sisters and brothers all fast asleep. That evening my sisters, Bunny and Nina, decided to camp out in the back of my Mom's pickup truck camper, kinda like a camp out. I paced the dark living room not knowing if I should wake my mom or if I should wait for contractions to start. I did remember one thing that I learned in Lamaze class the previous night in that if you walk the labor will speed up. Let me tell you, this does not apply if you are pre-term!!! So I did. Again, let me remind you I was 16 and did not know much of anything about birthing babies. About 20 minutes later I had to go to the bathroom and soon after that is when I felt my first contraction. I went and woke my mom and told her my water broke. She called the hospital who told her to get me to the hospital immediately! I think then is when the realization occurred to me that it was far too early for this to be happening. I went and got dressed and found my steel toed boots. Bending over was near impossible for me at this stage of pregnancy let alone while having contractions so I opted to walk with them untied. Once we got outside to leave is when we remembered there were stowaways in the truck and we had to take my step dads car. 

The 20 minute ride to the hospital wasn't all that bad. There were a few clutch the door handle moments but nothing I wasn't able to tolerate. Once we got to the hospital all hell broke loose. I was immediately wheeled into a room where they attempted to start an IV on me. 4 sticks and many bruises later, I finally had one in the back of my right hand. The next thing they did was an u/s, only for it to show that the baby was breech. Crap, I'm going to have to have a c-section, I thought in my head. I wanted nothing more then to go all natural with my first birth not have to be cut open like a slab of meat. That realization got me scared and in a panic even though I knew the baby had been breech all along. I guess I figured there was still time for him/her to turn around. 

At 3:30 AM I was checked and told I was at a 2. The contractions at this point were coming on strong and lasting for a while. I was told they were going to be giving me Magnesium to help stop the contractions. Cool, do what you got to do. At that point I didn't care what the hell they put in my IV, I just wanted the contractions to stop!! My mom was sitting in the chair way across the room and it felt like she was an eternity away. All I wanted was her to come stand next to me and hold my hand. There was such a hustle and bustle of nurses and doctors coming in and out that there were moments that I didn't even see her. The next thing I was told is that they were transporting me to a hospital over an hour away, as they were not equipped with a NICU, so they could not care for my baby once it was born. My mom had went home to wake the rest of the family and get them up so they could all meet me down in Sacramento. Then the real hustle took place. As did the contractions. They were one on top of another and never letting up. All I could do was grab the side rail and say over and over again, ow, ow, ow, ow, ow. At one point the nurse told me to stop it, I wasn't even having a contraction. Oh my, if I hadn't been in excruciating pain, I probably would've said something. Turns out, the monitors had slipped off my belly during the commotion. This was also the point I started feeling like I needed to push. I made it known too. Almost in unison every nurse/doctor/EMT in that room yelled at me not to! I resisted with every muscle in my body, to not push, but the feeling was uncontrollable. I was transferred onto a gurney and wheeled through the halls, ow, ow, ow'ing away, fighting back my body's natural pushing urges. Once outside I could see the stars in the still dark sky, and the huge bright white, full moon. At that moment everything stopped and I was calm. Only for that one split second.

Once I was in the ambulance with the OB nurse and EMT, the pain was back, the contractions, but mainly the urge to push. A few minutes later I couldn't hold back any longer and announced, I think I feel something. I will never forget the EMT looking me square in the eye and asking me like a 4 year old, do you feel like you have to poop? I said, No!! I think I feel the baby! While one hand was still holding my IV bag way high in the air, she checks me and announces to the ambulance driver, Turn around, the baby is crowning. At that point, I didn't give a crap if they told me not to push, I was!!! Seconds later the OB nurse and EMT were YELLING at me to push. Remember that ultrasound that showed the baby was breech? I delivered the baby's body just fine but her head was still inside and needed out now. One more yell at me made me fight with all I had and I pushed once more and out she came, 5:07 AM. 

I didn't know how to react. The baby that had just been placed on me was purple, not crying, and so, so, so tiny. That was when the ambulance doors opened up and I saw that moon again. I grabbed the blanket and wrapped the baby up more to keep in the warmth. Everything seemed to happen in warp speed and was a blur once I got out of the ambulance. I was wheeled back into the room that I had just left only 20 minutes prior. The baby was taken from me and placed in the warmer with about 5-6 people surrounding it and I was off to get stitched up and deliver the placenta. It occurred to me a few minutes later that I didn't even know my baby's sex! During my ultrasounds I had, the baby's position was an unusual one but it didn't seem to be a concern. The baby's position was butt down, head up in my right ribs, legs crossed and folded at the hips with toes touching the forehead. Pretty hard to picture, I know. So needless to say, my gumby little future yoga person did not leave any shots for determination. I asked what the sex was and much to my shock, nobody had even bothered to check! Joy filled my heart when I was told, It's a girl!

I little side story. I had dreams, clear, very vivid dreams in the very beginning of my pregnancy, before I even knew I was pregnant. I had a dream that I was pregnant with a little girl. Then another dream I delivered a baby girl very early and she was very sick and had many breathing problems. Another dream I delivered a baby girl in the front seat of a station wagon, and again this baby had breathing problems. So, really in my head after I found out I was pregnant, I believed with everything I was having a girl. Those dreams HAD to have meant something. If you're into dream interpretations, really there's no missing those premonitions. Turns out, my baby girl DID have breathing problems, instead of a station wagon she was born in the back of an ambulance and she was definitely born early.

My mom had made it home to let everyone know I was being transported. Just as she made it home, the hospital called her to let her know not to bother that I had already delivered the baby and to come back to the hospital. She did and brought my brother. In between this time and my getting stitches I had passed out cold from exhaustion and the Magnesium. For those who are not familiar with Magnesium, it comes with some very nasty side effects that apparently my body needed to sleep off. A few hours later I woke, still groggy and went to see my baby girl. I was wheeled into where she was in the nursery. She was under the warmer so tiny in comparison. I was only able to touch her as she needed to stay under the warmer because she was having a hard time stabilizing it on her own. I was shocked when I heard her weight and even then it didn't sink in just how tiny she was. 3 pounds, 14 ounces and 17 inches long. She was as big as most baby dolls!! My mom brought clothes from home but none of them fit her. Later my Mom would make all of Cheyenne's clothes and cloth diapers until she was finally big enough to fit in standard sized clothes. 

The first week of Cheyenne's birth seemed to be going good, despite her early birth. She was breathing on her own, eating pumped breastmilk just fine from a bottle, she did have some jaundice which some time under the cool blue lights helped. I was discharged after day 3, so leaving her behind in the hospital was one of the toughest things i have ever had to do. I visited daily having to get a ride from either my brother, Mom or stepdad as I didn't even have my license yet. Day 7 brought me many tears. I was called that morning and told that during one of her feeds she had an apnea/bradycardia spell. I didn't even know what that meant!! Her pediatrician came in that day and informed me that not only was she having MANY apnea/bradycardia episodes (apnea-forgetting to breathe, bradycardia-heart rate slowing way down) but that he had also discovered a heart murmur that morning. The episodes were reason enough to have her transported to a NICU down in Sacramento as they were just not equipped to care for her. So that day I fed her for the last time, took pictures of me and her together while shedding many tears! My mom and I went home, got my step-dad and brother and made the hour long trip to be with Cheyenne. 

Let me start this by saying, NICU's are very intimidating to anybody, but for me as a 16 year old, with a baby being freshly admitted to a NICU, it was overwhelming and felt like prison. I had to buzz a buzzer by the door which only had a tiny little strip of window to peer in, then wait. Wait for somebody to come let you in to only start the prison strip down/scrub up. I felt like I was a germ infested person the way I had to scrub up to my elbows with a surgical scrubby making sure to scrape under each nail with the nail pick, all the while making sure I didn't bump or touch anything with my sterile hands once they reached that level of cleanliness. Otherwise, the process had to be started all over again. Holding my clean hands up much like a surgeon I followed the quiet nurse to go get my scrub gown on. Tadda 15 minutes later, I am ready to go see my baby.

Cheyenne ended up staying 3 weeks in that NICU before finally being able to come home with monitors to send out shrieking noises when she forgot to breathe or if her heart rate dipped too low. The next couple of years were pretty scary with her breathing troubles and asthma. 15 years later Cheyenne is a very healthy and exceptionally bright young lady.

Laying it all out there

I have been MIA for many reasons, the main one...I have been in an emotional funk. The next reason I haven't posted is for fear of being judged. A little recap over the last few months. 2010 brought me a total of 2 cycles of ovulation, and that is it! I grew tired of sitting back and doing nothing with my cycles, except the inducing of Aunt Flow every 30-45 days with Provera. So, I took the plunge and ordered Clomid unprescribed. Judge me if you must, but I just don't give a crap anymore. My baby making years are drawing to an end VERY quickly, and I am tired of doing nothing. I have done extensive research on side effects, dosage, MY risks that pertain to my unique situation, etc. I felt confident enough to know what I was doing.

Fast forward to my first Clomid cycle. I took 50mgs on cycle days 8-12, just because that is when I received them and I didn't want to wait out that cycle, (however long my body decided it wanted that one to be) only to have to induce Aunt Flow again with Provera, and wait some more. I'm tired of waiting! That cycle went very well, almost textbook. I had absolutely NO side effects, ovulation occured 10 days after my last Clomid dose. Everything was looking so positive. Well except I didn't get my positive pregnancy test. No worries as I was just ecstatic that the minimum dosage of Clomid worked for me!!

Cycle #2 of Clomid I did the same dosage but on days 3-7, figuring it worked great the first go round, why mess with what is working? Except this time, it didn't work as well. It took me 13 days after my last dose to ovulate, which of course sent my emotions haywire. Will Clomid be like everything else I have tried in that it only works the first time and nothing more afterwards? Should I have increased my dosage? I had all kinds of doubts and questions running through my head. 

We timed intercourse very well, thank you to my wonderful hubby who knows how much this means to me and is a very willing participant in that area. It has come to a point now that all I have to say is, "That window is open, you are on the hook again." Tadda! Had I known this before I could've just said that instead of trying to seduce him to only be denied, to crying and feeling like he is not on board with expanding our family. It left for some pretty crappy nights. Once I told him of my motives of the seducing, he was way more willing to do HIS part, being what I have been through just to get my body to ovulate. Yay!

Back to Clomid cycle #2. I don't think I have ever mentioned it in any of my previous posts, but I am a Pee On A Stick (POAS) addict! Some of you will understand this, others will think I am nuts. That is ok, because as I look at it from an outsider's view, I AM a bit nuts. Who cares? :) I don't get a chance at pregnancy or even the possibility of pregnancy very often so who cares if I piss away (literally) a few bucks?! I started POAS at 7 days past ovulation with internet cheapie pregnancy tests I bought off of Amazon. Why did I start POAS so early? Well because I had 20 pregnancy tests in my drawer, I'm a POAS addict and because I could. :) Well wouldn't you know it, I saw lines. I saw them everywhere! I felt like that kid in The Sixth Sense who could see dead people, except mine were lines. Each day that passed, I peed on another one or two. Again more lines, albeit super faint, and very hard to distinguish if they were pink or grey. For those who don't know, evaps are pretty common and can be mistaken for a positive. The only difference in an evap line and a real second line is color. Evaps tend to be grey, real positives will have color. So as each day passed, I swear the lines (again albeit still VERY faint) were gradually getting darker. I thought I was seeing things so I posted pics for my fellow TTC supporters to analyze. Much to my surprise, they all saw the lines too!

11 days past ovulation I was mentioning to my husband that I am so hungry but nothing sounds good, nothing! With a very serious look on his face he says, "You're pregnant." I felt that was my opening to share with him about the faint, faint lines I was getting. There in lies my mistake. I have purposely kept my husband in the dark about alot of stuff regarding TTC, so as to not put unnecessary pressure on him to perform. I also do it to keep him from getting his hopes up. It was bad enough that I was already doing the Am I or Aren't I discussions in my head, I didn't want to let my husband down. The next day I peed on a Dollar Store pregnancy test and one of the internet cheapies. The dollar store test was a VERY convincing line, was pink in color, everything. 

 

*12 Days Past Ovulation-First Morning Urine*

Blue strip test is the Dollar Store Cheapie, pink strip is the internet cheapie

So that morning I told my husband that the line is still very faint but is definitely darker, with the hopes that the next day I could use my digital pregnancy test and read those precious words, Pregnant. Remember, when I said I keep my husband in the dark? This is why. This was his Facebook status update for that day:

"shhhhh.... theres a faint second line, will it get bolder?"

In fact it did not get bolder, but instead the following morning I woke to a huge temp drop and Aunt Flow showed, 2 days early. Screw you bitch! Needless to say this left me kicking myself in the ass for even saying anything to him. Because I could see the disappointment in his face when he heard that the lines would not be getting bolder. So instead of celebrating a positive test I am now left wondering, did I have a chemical pregnancy or were those evaps? I won't ever know but in my heart I want to believe they were evaps.

Clomid cycle #3, I have decided to go ahead an increase my dosage to 75mgs, taken on cycle days 3-7 again. I am on day 3 of 5 and the side effects have officially hit me. Hot flashes, dizziness, nausea, emotional as all get up and blurred vision (as if my vision wasn't shitty enough) are what I have been dealing with these days. Still very tolerable, especially if it does what it is intended to do, make me ovulate. My game plan this cycle is of course, well timed intercourse, Natural Progesterone Cream (NPC) during my luteal phase (as I suspect and always have that I have low progesterone levels) and wishing and hoping that it works this time. I plan on taking a Clomid break for one cycle after this one, and then resume my last 3 cycles afterwards.

I hope with everything that this cycle brings me my Big Fat Positive.